


1918 Spanish Influenza

by Jeanthesaviourofeveryone



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, MARCOISDEAD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1204309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanthesaviourofeveryone/pseuds/Jeanthesaviourofeveryone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is actually an assignment for history class that we were told to use our imagination on, so Marco dies of the Spanish Flu and Jean is sad. Jean remembers all their good times as he is forced out of the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1918 Spanish Influenza

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhenjoy...

Dear Marco,  
Today on this cold, discusting, rainy, July day in 1918, you died. You just passed away about an hour ago, after you died they forced me to leave, it was probably for the best, I about lost compusure at the point where they covered your face up in the white sheet. I took rememberence in that moment of the final two days of your life spent in a hospital. I remember how stubborn you were about being put in a hospital, all you wanted to do was be out in the world instead of vomitting blood in a hospital. I got a job at the hospital, just to be with my best friend before he died, that was one of the last conversations we had, one of the last times you smiled like you would when we were in the army. Then it wasn't more then a couple hours before you were....dead. I remember back in the war, we were always tgere for eachother, I'm pretty sure I would've died in those trenches it wasn't for you. I remember you, me, Connie, and Eren got in so much trouble when we disposed of those pigs, I remember the four of us just being immature, and probbing at the dead hogs with our guns, until General Levi scolded us to dispose of them. I remember seeing the French country side with you, between us you were always the optimist. You always told us all that we were young, and had nothing less than the right to enjoy life. When came back from the war you and me roamed the streets of New York looking for work, we were pretty much disregarded by our families and what was left our friends, but we both knew we atleast had eachother. So we gabled and got into the buisiness of moonshine and liquor, you always were good at avoiding trouble, I don't know if it was the fact you seemed more innocent then me, and came off as a good citizen to the authorities but they left us alone. I remember when you had your first drink, you couldn't hold your liquor and we were at the bar, and yelled something that wasn't even audible about how prohibition was the single dumbest thing you ever heard of, that night you took my usual job of causing trouble that ended up in a bar fight.   
That lack of audibility in that drunk slur came back as you wallowed in pain only two hours ago, the nurses came to help, but they couldn't your lungs began to fill with a liquid like blood as you began to cough it up, you were going to die and we all knew it, I was well aware, but then and now it's still difficult to accept my best friend is dead and gone, your so special, you stood against what looked like the worlds very end and innocently interpreted it as an adventure and excitement. In the last words of this letter I want you to know, I never thought I could trust another human being til' I met you, before we were friends, I always thought everyone was out to screw me, but even though your probably being thrown in a mass grave, and I may never find your body, your always an individual to me, you taught me by only a slight change in perspective the world can be a new spectical each and every day.

Your buisness partner, drinking buddy, comrade, and closest friend, Jean.


End file.
